Glitter and Pancakes
by HappeDaez
Summary: Gilbert's a stripper. Matthew's a drug dealer. They both have their own problems, but when the two are forced to run from the Russian mob for a crime they didn't commit, will love tie them together?
1. Chapter 1: Lack of Clothing is Wanted

Glitter and Pancakes

Chapter One: Lack of Clothing is Preferred

_Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia_

* * *

Glitter was a stripper's mark.

It was slathered on every inch of their body, and in the process it infected every poor soul that saw them.

The married businessman; bored of his cookie-cutter house, wife and average 2.5 children.

The rich corporate leader, sly smiles and a 'third-times-the-charm' ring on his finger that meant nothing.

The poor man, wasting his entire paycheck on something that was as temporary as the alcohol's soothing effect.

The cheating husband tired of being faithful.

The next morning, they would all wake up, and somewhere, somehow, a speck of the shining color-coated plastic would be on their person, ruining smooth lies of where and why.

Gilbert Beilschmidt knew this all too well.

After all, he was one of the causes of the glitter.

Running his one of his hands through his hair, he lowered his hips to just lightly brush the chrome pole he was suggestively enjoying. Grinning a thousand-watt smile at his audience, he brought his groin closer to the pole and rubbed it together sensually.

He had discarded his shirt long ago, and with one hand, he unbuttoned his tight jeans. He waited a few moments before unzipping his zipper halfway.

The music boomed, loud and rhythmic. A female singer made noises akin to the sounds one might expect from a particularly good orgasm.

Spinning, he brought himself around it in a circular motion and then he pulled back to it; rolling his torso in a waving movement to the pole, eliciting many cheers from his spectators. Gilbert went close to the pole, and parted his lips while letting a patented glazed eye look take over.

Gilbert slowly dragged a trail with his tongue on the pole with fake hesitance, then once more with a more lust-filled look.

Dropping his arms from the pole, Gilbert blew a kiss to the cheering audience.

He looked back and winked as bits of confetti signaled his departure.

"Come on, stay awhile sexy!" One of his bolder viewer's members crowed.

Gilbert grinned and strutted back through the entrance that was partially obscured by machine-generated mist.

"Good job today." His boss commented as he passed; a dirty smile on his face.

"Thanks." Gilbert threw over his shoulder. The man was a pervert, better to just leave.

He went into the large room reserved for the employee's of the club. The mirror-lined room gave him many views of himself.

Gilbert smiled at his backside.

"I am so awesome." He purred.

"That's like, totally what I said." Feliks said, walking in the room with his partner, Toris. He was dressed entirely in a schoolgirl outfit that suited him much more than it should.

"Feliks!" Gilbert crowed excitedly, throwing his (still naked) arms into the air as greeting.

"What's up, Gil?" Feliks asked, inspecting his sparkling nail polish with the eye of an expert.

"Nothing." Gilbert answered cheerfully. "You good too?" He asked Toris, seeing his stressed face.

"…I'm okay." He answered after a lengthy consideration. "I'm just trying to get used to Feliks...occupation."

"Pssh, it's not like you haven't seen me naked before." Feliks added.

Toris flushed. "H-hey!" He pouted. "You can't say things like that!"

Feliks grinned. "If you keep making that face, I'll like, totally not say anything."

Gilbert whistled. "And I'll record it." He waved to the half-embarrassed, half-considering-it couple before exiting the room.

Gilbert re-dressed, this time in a plain white button-up shirt and loose jeans. He hurriedly threw a red plaid patterned scarf over it.

With his shift over, he could go home and make a late dinner and possibly hang out with his little brother.

Gilbert grinned.

Today was pretty good.

Yawning, he unlocked the door to his scratched red car. He slid into the leather seat and put the key into the ignition. His car started up after a momentary stall.

Looking back, Gilbert eased out of his parking space and on to the road.

Turning on the radio, he kept it on the pre-set station.

Humming along with the song, he should have known it was too good a day to be true.

His good mood was soon crushed along with the left side of his car.

Head spinning, he felt the airbag to his car finish its use before he blacked out.

_Damn. I was having such a good day, too…_


	2. Chapter 2: Money is Needed

Glitter and Pancakes

Chapter Two: Money is Essential

_Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia_

* * *

Matthew woke up to the sound of his alarm ringing for what must have been quite a while.

Sleepily reaching out, he pressed the sleep button. Groaning, he got up and pulled himself together. He had to work today…

Yawning, he recounted the errands he had do today in his head, making sure to thoroughly go through each one, smoothing out the minor details and delays. The train station would be good for a few hours in the early morning, then the alley in between the local bakery and hotel. After that, the deserted park between the old townhouse.

After that time, he would have hypothetically sold enough to get a normal day's pay.

_Alright_, he though sleepily. _Every-thing's set._

After brushing his teeth and taking a shower, he got dressed in a white t-shirt and dark jeans, throwing a red hoodie with a maple leaf emblazoned on the front over the outfit.

Stretching once before picking up his backpack, he flipped it open to check everything was there.

Everything was exactly in its place.

He smiled, relived. Usually he would have to carefully separate everything, making sure each of the containers where closed.

He pulled his cell phone out of his jean pocket, flipping it open and activating auto-dial. He pressed the button with a two printed on it.

It was on the fourth ring that his friend picked up.

"_Ugh…"_

"Good morning to you too, Cuba." Matthew said, smiling as he put his shoes on while holding the phone with his shoulder.

"_Dammit, why the hell do you have to be so godamn happy in the morning?" _

"It's in my nature, I guess." Matthew took the stairs down, reaching the bottom in no time since he lived only on the second floor of the apartment.

"_Ugh…"_ Matthew heard Cuba get up, probably off his bed, and then the loud cracking of his back. "Ow."

"_Yeah. So where's the first site today?" _Cuba asked, slightly more alert than a second ago.

"Northwest Train Station. I'll wait in front, okay?"

"_Okay."_ Cuba agreed. _"See you in a second."_

"Yeah. Bye." Matthew added. He closed his phone and shoved it back in his pocket.

Time to work.

"What's up, man?" Cuba said, clapping Matthew over the shoulder with his arm.

"Nothing much." The blonde replied, scanning over the situation around him. No one much was around them, just a couple people walking around.

Well, it _was_ pretty early in the morning.

"Ah, here we go." He murmured, nudging Cuba. Cuba looked up from where he was lighting up his cigar.

"Hey, yeah." Cuba said grinning. "It's our favorite regular." The two watched as the figure approached them.

"Hey…" He said, slowly. It was a man of Greek descent, with longer than average wavy dark brown hair and eyes. He had casual clothes on, and held a cat and two other of the animals where following him.

"What's up, man!" Cuba said, grinning. "We haven't seen you for a while. Been doing time?"

"No…" The Grecian man said, petting his cat. "Avoiding someone…"

Canada smiled knowingly. "Sadiq?" He questioned, knowing the only person the Greek openly detested was the Turkish male. Opening his own canvas bag, Cuba gestured inside.

"Well, can I interest you in a hit then?"

Heracles looked down. "Hmm…Canada, what do you have today?" He asked calmly, rubbing one of his eyes sleepily.

Cuba smiled at Matthew. Heracles was going to buy it. This was just a formality.

After his standard moment of hesitation, Heracles pulled a few crumpled bills out of his pocket. He handed them the money the same time they gave him a small plastic bag. They let go at the same time, both parties keeping their eyes on the hand movements of the other.

In this business, no one was trusted.

Heracles nodded. "See you guys later…" He said, waving slightly as he walked away, shoving the baggie into his pocket.

Matthew nodded and let himself lean against the wall.

Cuba yawned, and copied his action. He sorted out the bills, smoothing the wrinkles out methodically with his hands. He put half into his black bag, and handed the other half to Matthew.

"Our country name thing is genius." Cuba said, grinning.

"Why do you say that?" Canada asked, humoring the larger man with his unneeded question.

"Because even our long –time regulars don't know our names." Cuba answered proudly. "In this business, usually someone knows your real first name." He pointed to himself with his thumb proudly.

"Our customers don't know squat."

Matthew nodded, half-listening.

"I mean, if a new customer is caught, they don't know anything about us!"

"Except for what we look like." Canada added. "Well, yeah…" Cuba admitted. "I'll give you that."

It was another few minutes of comfortable silence before Cub a

"So, what's the plan for today again?" Cuba asked, tapping his cigar on one of his extended fingers, watching the smoldering ash fall off the end and onto the grey cement below them.

Canada quirked an eyebrow, looking at the taller man out of the corner of his eye. "Didn't I tell you earlier, on the phone?"

Cuba shrugged. "You just told me to go here, I think."

Matthew thought back, tilting his head.

"Hmm…your right." He said, sounding slightly surprised. "I usually tell you all the places, don't I?"

"Yeah." Cuba said, adding on. "Did you stay up late or something?"

"No." Canada said thoughtfully. "Anyway, we'll be going to the place between the bakery shop, the one specializing in cultural foods, and the hotel."

"Okay." Cuba agreed; with a good-natured tone. "The one owned by the Austrian guy and the weird Hungarian lady?"

"Yeah, that's the one." Canada confirmed. "After that, we'll go to the park next to the townhouse."

Cuba wrinkled his nose. "The old one? I hate that place."

Matthew sighed. "I know, but it's much easier to reach our clients if we're closer to their location."

"I know." Cuba said, sulkily. "It's still a creepy old house."

Matthew shook his head; exasperated, but made no further argument.

"Just focus on the goal." Matthew told him, looking straight ahead.

"Right, right…" Cuba said.

If only money was not so completely important…

Gilbert woke up to a painfully blinding light and painfully awkward looking younger brother.

"Ludwig…?" He asked hoarsely, his through raw from not using it for what must have been a while. His brother's head immediately jerked up at the sound, and he knelt beside the Prussian male's bed; expression filled with concern.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig asked, looking as if he hadn't gotten much sleep over the past week.

"Yeah, I think so." Gilbert answered, smiling up at the blonde man. "Thanks." He said when his brother handed him a glass of water silently. He drank it quickly in huge gulps, feeling much better once he had drank all of the clear liquid.

"Careful." His brother admonished, seeing his hurried drinking speed. "You'll choke."

"Yeah, yeah. The awesome me can't succumb to stupid things like choking." Gilbert said, grinning up at Ludwig.

The mood lightened considerably, and Ludwig smiled a little. He turned, embarrassed at what he was about to say.

"I was worried about you." He said quietly. "They said you where in a car accident."

Gilbert closed his eyes. He didn't say anything.

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke up.

"Did I break anything?" He asked. "I can't feel my leg very well right now."

"No." Ludwig assured his older brother, turning back to face him. He got back up and sat in the chair beside the bed.

"The doctor says you'll be fine, but you should really be more careful."

"Che. Wasn't my fault." Gilbert defended himself good-naturedly. "Didn't see the bastard coming."

Blinking in realization, he sat up slightly. "Hey, how is my car?"

Ludwig sighed. "Shouldn't you be more worried about the guy you hit?"

"No."

Ludwig felt his eye twitch.

"Your car is a little dented, but I can fix it. And the guy you hit is okay, as well."

"_Danke schon_!" Gilbert crowed, smiling. "I knew I could count on you, West!"

Ludwig softened, hearing the nickname Gilbert had given him when he had been a child.

"You're welcome." He said. "Feliciano is coming by in a little while."

Gilbert's face brightened considerably. "Awesome! I can't wait for my awesome meeting with that awesome little guy!"

Ludwig twitched at Gilbert's rather loud expression of joy at the proclaimed 'awesomeness' that would be.

"Gilbert, you're abusing the English language." Ludwig commented, knowing it wouldn't help matters anyway.

"Pssh, how? I'm just saying how…" Gilbert grinned mischievously and stared at Ludwig in the eyes. "_Awesome_it'll be when Feli gets here."

As if on cue, the small Italian burst into the room, carrying several bags and a vase of flowers in full bloom.

"G-Gilbert!" He cried, nearly dropping the vase. "I was so worried about you!" Ludwig took the bags, and much to his relief, Feliciano put the vase down on the small stand next to Gilbert's bed.

Gilbert grinned. "How've you been doing?" He asked, and finally noticed the small yellow bird on Feliciano's head.

"Good. Romano says hello." Feliciano said, even though Romano's real words had been far different and containing a few swear words in between words.

"Hey, thanks for taking care of Gilbird!" He said appreciatively, smiling widely when the bird chirped and flew lazily over to Gilbert, making itself comfortable on the albino's head.

Feliciano nodded, and picked up a plastic container from one of the bags. "I made you some pasta!" He said joyfully.

"Thanks, Feli!" Gilbert said, taking the container and a plastic fork as it was handed to him.

He opened it and started to eat it appreciatively. Feliciano turned to Ludwig and handed him a second container from the bags.

"I got some for you too, Doitsu!" Feliciano stated, smiling softly towards the tall man.

"Thank you, Feliciano." Ludwig thanked the short Italian, long used to his peculiar nicknames that the brunette called him on whims. He opened his own container, and started to eat. Feliciano stared at him for another moment peacefully before blushing and getting his own container of pasta.

Gilbert watched with a lecherous grin on his face.

Finishing their food, Ludwig took the containers and plastic forks to the trash and threw them out.

"How long will I be in here?" Gilbert asked, leaning up against the wall comfortably.

"About a week, I think." Ludwig said, shifting in his seat. "Less if you stay calm."

Gilbert beamed up at him. "I'll be out of here in no time!"

Ludwig nodded. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

Gilbert nodded. Ludwig got up, and he looked down at Gilbert.

"You'll be okay?" He asked, sounding nervous. "Will the owner of the restaurant be okay if you miss a few days?"

"Yeah." He told him, unease churning in his stomach.

Needing no other confirmation, Ludwig turned and left the room along with Feliciano, who picked up one of his bags and waved goodbye while Ludwig carried the others for him.

Gilbert listened to their conversation with a slightly guilty smile on his face.

"Can I stay over your house tonight?" He heard Feliciano ask hopefully.

"…Yeah." Ludwig answered after a second of thinking.

"Ve~! Thank you Doitsu!" Feliciano crowed, and after that came a sound of fabric rustling, which probably meant that the stern German man was on the receiving end of one of the Italian's enthusiastic hugs. It was only confirmed by Ludwig's embarrassed cough following the noise.

"Just…when it's time to go to sleep, can you please wear clothes…?" Ludwig asked, sounding hopeful.

"Ve~ I'll try, Doitsu!"

The sound of footsteps faded until it was just Gilbert sitting in his bed quietly, his bird letting an occasional chirp from his position on Gilbert's head.

Gilbert turned on his side.

_What would Germany think...if he found out my real job?_ Gilbert wondered quietly.

* * *

_A/N: Danke Schon means thank you._

_If I am wrong with the German, please tell me. :) Thank you._


	3. Chapter 3:Stab Stab

Glitter and Pancakes

Chapter Three: Stabbity Stab Stab

_Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia. _

_A/n: Tried to update faster 'cause my friend Pri was awesome and reminded me to update!...XD Sorry this took so long, everyone. I have no other excuse than not wanting have *** hurt with all my heart…!_

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Matthew clutched the strap hung from the ceiling while the subway shook with the hurtling force of the subway moving through the tunnel.

The air was loud, rebounding from the concrete walls of the tunnel, making a sound that was only partly muffled by the subways walls of hardened plastic.

Matthew's car was empty except for two women sitting near the other end. One was sitting in her seat, looking half-asleep. She was holding a bag securely in her grip. On top of the bag, cradled in her arms and covered with blankets was a small baby who was also asleep.

Matthew smiled.

_Little kids are so cute! _He thought.

The girl looked quite young to have a child; Matthew estimated her age to be around eighteen or nineteen.

He narrowed his eyes. She seemed quite familiar, for some reason, although he could not discern from where.

She had cut her blond hair quite short and had a scarf tight around her neck. Her breasts where quite large, compared to her body size, Matthew noted with a blush and a quiet aversion of his eyes.

The other was awake but not speaking nor smiling, sitting next to the other like a security guard of sorts. She was sitting completely straight in her chair, staring straight ahead.

Her eyes where sharp and focused, nearly the color the same as her silver hair. She was wearing what seemed to be a variation of a maid dress, Matthew noticed.

Matthew stared, taking in the girl's hair. It looked natural. Also, her eyebrows where the same color, so maybe it was real.

Matthew wondered about silver hair as the announcer called the next stop.

"_Park Way is the next stop, Park Way.._."

The silver-haired woman got up from her mannequin-like stance and gently shook the other girl's shoulder, waking her and ushered her off the train.

Matthew was then taken by surprise as the girl walked over to him the moment the woman with the child had left the train.

She nodded icily, glaring at him with a hard stare.

"Belarus." She said, apparently as her introduction. She swayed slightly, and held onto her arm with her other hand for a moment before dropping it and letting her arms rest at her sides.

Matthew felt his eyes widen slightly in mild confusion. _Wasn't that a country…?_

"Uh, I'm Canada." Matthew said, smiling amiably. If she wasn't going to give him her real name, he would return the favor.

She nodded, and reached into her pocket sluggishly. Her eyes where no longer bright blue, but a dulled blue-gray version of the previous shade.

Matthew felt his smile shatter as quickly as the dagger drove into his stomach.

His vision blurred, and he hit the floor hard. He felt blood stream out, watching as the brown carpet soaked up his life like a sponge.

His vision dimmed, and his last sight was of the woman pulling the knife out of his body. He was unconscious before he even registered the pain.

The woman named Belarus left the train, putting the knife back into her pocket. She picked up his bag and left, the doors closing behind her.

The train attendant called out the next stop over the loudspeaker.

"_Central Avenue is the next stop, Central Avenue…_"

* * *

Gilbert had almost forgotten what loud noise was.

A mass of people had rushed down his hallway, screaming and yelling out medical commands, shoving a stretcher down the hallway.

Gilbert only got a glimpse of a male figure lying on the stretcher before it vanished from sight.

"I hope at least that you get out of here soon." Gilbert said idly. "I have to wait two goddamn more weeks."

He was so bored. Other than the visit from Ludwig and Feliciano the other day, no one had come to see him. Sure, his friends Francis and Antonio had called with apologies, a 'get-well-soon', and excuses of being busy, but that wasn't good enough.

Human contact was just priceless.

Gilbert turned on his other side.

* * *

Matthew dazed in and out of consciousness, his vision unreliable.

He heard steady beeping and the sound of people.

_I…I'm in a hospital._ He realized the memory of being stabbed fresh in his mind. With great care, he looked down to see his bandaged torso, without the bloody shirt he had on previously. He had the same jeans on and someone had drawn a cover over him halfway, so his lower half of his body was pleasantly warm.

He breathed out steadily.

_I'm glad someone got me into a hospital…_ He thought. _Otherwise…_

He shuddered to think of what would have happened if he had just stayed on the bus, his blood draining out of him, his life flickering and then, like a candle with water surrounding it out with a watery puff of smoke.

Turning away from his dark thoughts, Matthew raised his head and looked around him. He sat upright on a standard hospital bed, in a large open room with wide windows and comforting light yellow walls. Light, opaque curtains when drawn apart from the windows, allowing him an expansive look at the city life below.

_This must be the city hospital,_ Matthew decided. His eyes closed half-way, his mind relaxing now that he knew where he was.

He let himself rest against his pillow, hands reaching for his bag, to get his cell phone and tell Cuba what happened.

His eyes shot open.

It wasn't there.

He flew up, hands gripping the sheets and feeling his vision blur. His wound ached, the cut only recently closed.

But…

His cell phone, his keys, money, drug money, _drugs_…!

Matthew let his hands rest over his face, and he brought his knees up to his chest.

All of his information, his whole life could be ruined with that bag. His fingerprints where all over the money and drug containers, and the bag probably contained enough to get him sent away to jail for life. Even without any of it in his system, they would probably send him away as an example for other dealers; one he knew would not be heeded.

Matthew breathed out.

_Maybe_ _it won't be found._ Matthew desperately hoped. _It _is _a city subway. Someone will probably find the bag, see the money and take all of it._

Maybe, if he was really lucky, they would be an addict as well. An addict a few years in would take all the drugs and money, no questions asked.

Matthew tried to calm himself, and bit his lip when he felt tears begin to prick at his eyes.

"I will not cry." Matthew breathed out. "I will _not_ cry."

Matthew quietly talked to himself, a habit he had developed while living alone for so many years.

"I'll find that money, I'll find everything inside of that bag..." Matthew closed his eyes and angled his head upwards.

"I'll help you, Alfred…"

Soon, sleep overtook him.


End file.
